


Number Two.

by zahrawrites



Series: The 'I Love You' Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Birthday Presents, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:14:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahrawrites/pseuds/zahrawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It reminded me of you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Number Two.

When Castiel’s birthday rolls around near mid-September, Dean’s still looking for a birthday present. It can’t be an initiation into how to smoke joints on the roof till it feels like you’re floating like it was last year. No, this year he wants Cas to remember, wants Cas to be able to keep something tangible.

It’s completely by accident that he finds what he’s looking for.

Sam drags him to some voodoo shop, _Missouri’s_ the sign reads, to pick up a protective charm bracelet for Jess.

Dean had looked at him sceptically when he’d mentioned it, but given in when the infamous puppy dog eyes had made their appearance.

That’s how he finds himself trailing through aisles flanked by books on the occult and supernatural lore that he doesn’t particularly want to delve into. A funky looking object catches his attention. It’s a circular shape and there’s threads of varying lengths hanging off of it. The colours are pretty and they glint in the afternoon light when it sways gently in his fingers.

"It’s called a dreamcatcher." He startles at the voice and almost drops the object when he realises he’s just been staring at it, before a hand takes it from him and hangs it on the hook.

He clears his throat and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. "What’s it for?"  He asks the heavy set, African American woman who greets him with a kind smile when he turns to face her.

She brushes her fingers gently over the other Dreamcatchers that lay on the table. "They’re said to originate with the Ojibwe people. Storytellers speak of the Spider Woman who took care of the children and the people on the land. Eventually, the Ojibwe Nation spread far and wide so it became difficult to reach all the children. So, mothers and grandmothers would weave magical webs for them that would filter out all the bad dreams and only allow the good ones to enter our minds."

She looks up at him with a wistful smile on her face. "Once the sun rises, all the bad dreams just…" she makes a wavy motion with her fingers. "…disappear."

Dean’s pretty sure his mouth’s hanging open a little. He snaps it shut and glances back to the Dreamcatcher before her next word surprises him.

"Angels." She says calmly, looking at him – _through_ him.

He shies from the intensity of her gaze.

"What?"

She shakes her head, most likely realising that she’s freaking him out and smiles.

"You’re looking for something. Something to do with angels."

"…um…" He’s not exactly sure what to say, looking past her and further into the shop for his brother.

"I think I might have something for you."

She turns away to lead through the aisle when she realises he’s not following.

"Well? Are you comin’ or what, boy?

He trails after her, though apprehensive and cautious, something tells him she’s not an axe murderer leading him to her dungeon of unspeakable torture. He realises that the tiny shop front is deceiving, the aisles go on for ages and he has to speed up a little not to lose her.

"Over here." She calls from around the corner where he watches her search through a cupboard murmuring things to herself like _where did I put you?_ and _I coulda sworn you were beside the blade_ and _why do you have to keep moving around?_

He thinks she’s speaking to the objects she keeps placing in certain positions but he can’t be sure because inanimate objects don’t move on their own… do they?

He doesn’t have time to contemplate that line of thought before she exclaims, "Aha! I knew you were here somewhere." and pulls out a small, wooden box.

" _This_ is what you’re looking for." She stands adamantly and hands it to him carefully.

He just examines it for a while before looking at her suspiciously.

"You gonna stare at it all damn day or actually open it?" She asks, placing a hand on her hip and raising a brow.

He braces himself for what could be inside but it seems like there’s no need because when he opens it, all the air from his lungs leaves him at once.

When he glances at her, she smiles knowingly.

 

-X-x-X-

 

Cas’ birthday falls on a Thursday this year but Gabriel’s insisted on throwing the party on a Saturday which means this is only quiet chance he’ll get if he wants to give Cas the present.

Cas’ street is quiet. Dean shuts off the Impala and looks up at his house. His bedroom light is on which means Cas must still be awake even though it’s almost 11:30pm. He contemplates texting the other boy to let him know he’s here but that would ruin the surprise.

He takes a breath, whispers _showtime_ to his car, and exits the vehicle, careful not to slam her door because of his nervous jitters. He shakes out his hands as he walks up the path, and rolls his shoulders.

He shouldn’t be this nervous.

It’s only Cas.

The small, wooden box burns in his pocket.

Raising a fist tentatively, he knocks rhythmically against the wood.

There’s a few thumps, a groan, and then Gabriel swings open the door rubbing at the back of his head.

"Deano! What can I do you for?"

"Uh, I’m here to see Cas. If-if that’s okay?" he asks. The stutter comes out before he can help it but he clears his throat to cover it up as Gabriel gestures for him to come in and calls up the stairs.

"Cassie! Your boyfriend’s here!" he yells, and then wanders off into the living room, leaving Dean waiting awkwardly by the bottom of the stairs. It's not uncommon for people to make jokes about the nature of his and Cas' relationship. Its even more common for Dean to bite back a playful retort but this time nothing comes so he lets it slide. He’s been to Cas’ house before. His appearance in the house is so commonplace that he doesn’t usually even need to be invited, he just heads straight to where Cas is. However, this time, he can’t help but feel out of place.

Glancing into the living room reveals a banner reading _Happy Birthday!_ strung up and a few unburst, colourful balloons drifting around on the floor. Gabriel kicks his feet up onto the coffee table and digs into a tray of the last quarter of a cake. Birthday cake, Dean assumes.

"Dean?" Comes Cas’ confused and slightly surprised voice as he heads down the stairs. He’s in pyjamas that have little planets on them and a scruffy gray t-shirt. His mop of brown hair is a mess as usual and he’s wearing his glasses which means he was either reading or watching TV.

Dean bets it was reading.

"Happy birthday, Cas." are the first words that escape him, and Cas’ smile is automatic – toothy and wide enough to display the beginnings of lines around his eyes that Dean’s sure will develop into crinkles as he grows older.

"Thank you."

They stare at each other for a while, before Cas inclines his head and asks, "Are you okay, Dean?"

That’s when he remembers.

" _Yeah_ , yeah of course. I just, um…" He glances back towards the living room. Gabriel’s still focused on the TV. "I have something for you." He finishes pointedly.

Cas seems to get the message, and gestures for him to come upstairs.

" _Make sure you use protection!_ " follows them up the stairs and Cas laughs at his brother’s remark.

He clears his books and papers off the bed, stacking them neatly on his desk, tucks the chair in and sits on the bed. Dean takes a seat beside him, thighs touching. His heart’s jackhammering in his chest, but he doesn’t understand why. His palms have gone slightly sweaty and he’s pretty sure he’s as red as a tomato.

"So…" Cas says.  

Dean looks at him as he pushes his glasses further up his nose. He watches Dean expectantly.

"You said you had something for me?"

"Oh, right. Yeah."

He pulls out the box and just looks at it for a beat before handing it to Cas as nonchalantly as he can manage.

"I figured you're gonna be pretty busy on Saturday with the party and everything, so I thought this is the only quiet chance I’m gonna get." He’s still talking while Cas is smoothing his fingers over the box, running them over the decoration and the engraving he can’t read but now realises he should’ve asked Missouri about.

"I mean, it’s nothing big. Just something for you to have. I thought you might like it, and if you don’t then it’s okay-"

"Dean, you’re rambling." Cas interjects quietly, without looking up.

"Sorry." The apology is automatic and he hadn’t noticed how soft his voice had gotten.

"Don’t apologise. Can I open it?" He asks, blue eyes wide and so innocent that Dean can’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the question.

"Course you can, it’s for you."

Cas takes his time, holds the box carefully, reverently, fingers nimble when he undoes the little latch at the front. Dean has the sudden urge to rip it out of his hands and do it himself because he doesn't think it deserves that much care, doesn't think  _he_ deserves that much care. His self-loathing can wait for another time though because he's wants to see Cas' reaction. 

He waits.

And watches.

Trails his gaze slowly over Cas’ profile, from the curl that sticks to his forehead, down the rectangle frame of his glasses, over the bridge of his nose, and comes to rest on pink lips.

It’s only when Cas inhales sharply, brows raised in surprise, mouth dropped open, that his gaze flicks back to the box.

"Dean…" He pulls the piece of jewellery out while placing the box to the side, and holds it in his fingers.

"I saw it at a shop. The lady said you’d like it, but if you don’t-"

" _Dean_." The raw emotion in Cas’ voice forces him to look up into bright blue eyes.

"It’s supposed to be Angel Grace." He breathes a laugh because it feels like the air around them has drawn in tight. "But I’m not sure how true that is."

Cas looks down at the necklace in his hands, more importantly, at the vial filled with a bright, shiny, white substance at the end of it.

"I love it." Cas whispers.

"It reminded me of you." Dean whispers back.

Cas just looks up at him for the longest time wearing an undecipherable emotion before Dean has to ask.

"What is it?"

Cas just shakes his head imperceptibly and hands him the necklace. Dean struggles to undo it with shaky fingers as he turns his body in towards Cas. When he finally gets the clasp undone, he looks up and Cas is waiting with a small curve of his lips. His arms hover over Cas’ shoulders as his hands go around his neck. Cas leans forward, so much so that Dean can feel his warm breath against the column of his neck. It takes four tries before he hooks the metal pieces together. He straightens the leather cord by running his fingers underneath it so the vial sits comfortably below the hollow of Cas’ throat. A murmured _thank you_ in his ear and Cas stands to inspect the jewellery in his wardrobe mirror.

There’s a small, appreciative tilt of the head before he meets Dean’s eyes in the reflection and smiles.

Dean just about stands before he gets an armful of Cas, arms wrapped around his neck, cheek pressed to cheek, torso lined with torso.

"Thank you." He says again, breath tickling the shell of his ear.

"You don’t have to keep saying that, Cas."

He can feel Cas’ smile when the boy tucks his face into Dean’s neck. His heart swells.

 

-X-x-X-

 

That Saturday, Dean notes that whenever he catches Cas eye from across a busy room, his fingers go up automatically to brush against the necklace before he’s drawn back into conversation again.

Dean just smiles and averts his gaze before anyone else notices how loudly his heart is pounding.  


End file.
